Dearest Sheero,

I hope this letter reaches you. I know you can’t read, but I’m sure God or one of his angels will be more than happy to read this for you.

I still can’t believe you left us last Friday night. How could you? You know how special you are to me. You know how much I love you. And you didn’t even say goodbye. You went into that coma and just left. Just like that. We were there at the vet just a few minutes after you went to heaven, Sheero. You could have waited.

Why did you leave me? We were best friends, weren’t we? I took you on walks (which you enjoyed so much), and anywhere and everywhere they allowed dogs to go to. I let you sleep beside me whenever Marc’s not around (you know as well as I do how much he hated having your fur all over the bed), I defended you from the others dogs who were jealous of how close we were. We were inseperable, as inseperable as a dog and human can be. Dad even called you my “alter ego.”

Why, Sheero? Why leave me? Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. I started this blog because of you. We even named our company after you. After making me happy for five wonderful years, you just left.

I’m sorry Sheero. I shouldn’t blame you. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me. I should have taken better care of you. I should have brought you to the vet sooner instead of letting my work get in the way. I should have noticed you weren’t well. I should have stayed with you last Friday. But I didn’t know, Sheero, I thought you were getting better. You looked happy when I saw you the day before. You were happy to see me. How was I to know that that was the last time I’ll see you look at me?

Forgive me, Sheero. I know it’s not your fault. I’m glad you didn’t suffer—I saw your body and you seemed to have left peacefully, without any pain. It was like you just fell into a long, long sleep. Sorry, but I really can’t help reacting this way.

I just love you so much. So, so much.

Every day since you’ve left, I cry every time I remember you. It’s a wonder I even managed to write you this letter. You know me. I’m a crybaby when it comes to you.

I keep thinking back through the years we’ve had together. All those happy memories. Honestly, I can’t remember a time with you that isn’t happy—well, probably except for those few times when you were sick. But other than that, everything we’ve had were all happy memories.

I remember all those times when you cuddled up to me whenever I was sad. I remember feeling much better just by seeing how much you cared. I remember how you used to give me little gifts of mice, roaches, lizards and even huge rats—you were so proud catching them, and made sure to give them to me before any other dog claimed your catches for themselves. I remember how you jumped and barked excitedly whenever you saw me getting your leash ready for a walk. I remember how we used to play catch—you gave back the ball once, but the second time you threw it away for me to catch. I remember how we used to run like lunatics all over the Ateneo baseball field. I remember how your ears perked up and your tail wagged whenever I called your name. I remember you saving my life.

Bu do you know what’s the most painful part of remembering you? It’s remembering how you loved me as much as I love you.

We’ll be together again, I promise. But not just yet. Please wait for me this time. I’ll be with you again, and that’s a promise. You know me, Sheero, I always keep my promises. I’ve never broken a promise to you, and I never will.

I will never forget you Sheero. Never. I might have other dogs, but you’ll always be my number one baby. My one and only Sheero baby. You’ll always, and I do mean always, have a special place in my heart.

Thank you, my darling Sheero. Thank you for being part of my life. Thank you for loving me.